


we have not touched the stars

by The_Wavesinger



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Changing Tenses, Child Abuse, Gen, Love/Hate, Scars, Siblings, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/pseuds/The_Wavesinger
Summary: "Something went wrong, somewhere. Maybe they never had a hope in the world of being proper siblings. Maybe Ozai had messed them up too much."
 Moments in the life of Zuko and Azula.





	we have not touched the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brachylagus_fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brachylagus_fandom/gifts).



> Title from Richard Siken's _Snow and Dirty Rain_.
> 
> Please heed the warnings; there's some non-graphic violence (particularly of the firebending kind), several scenes containing non-graphic child abuse (mostly emotional abuse), and a lot of reference to scars. Also tense changes and overuse of italics.
> 
> Your prompts were lots of fun to write for, recipient, and I hope you don't mind that I ended up combining all three you gave for Zuko and Azula. I hope you like this!

**1.**

Zuko's first memory is of when Azula was still a baby, a squalling bundle in his mother's arms. Zuko had been almost three, and he had watched as his mother rocked her to sleep.

“She's so small,” he had said.

Ursa laughed. “She'll grow bigger.”

“But she's not doing anything now. I don't know if she even likes me,” Zuko whined.

“She likes you,” Ursa said. “And when you're older, you'll love each other very much, and take care of each other.”

 

* * *

 

**2.**

Azula and Zuko shot their first sparks together.

They were playing in the garden, running after each other; Azula caught Zuko's ankle, and they tumbled down, laughing, onto the ground. And somewhere in the tangle of lips, someone inadvertently let a tiny spark of fire out of their fingers.

Zuko doesn't know, to this day, whether it was him or Azula. What he does remember, however, is the look of wonderment on his sister's face as they flicked the embers at each other.

 

* * *

 

**3.**

When Zuko was five, Azula burnt him so deep he still has the scars.

It was an accident; he stumbled, during training, and fell into the way of Azula's burst of flame.

( _Gave_ may be too harsh a word; Azula was three, and had, at that time, hardly any control of her fire.)

(Later, Zuko remembers being scolded by Ozai. He'd yelled at Azula, too, for stopping her kata when Zuko was injured. _It's just a burn. You're encouraging your brother's weakness._ )

 

* * *

 

**4.**

Azula found Ty Lee when she was five, Mai at six. They were _best friends_ , and Zuko began to feel more and more left out. His sister outpaced him in lessons, and now she had friends before he did, too.

(“A Prince cannot have friends,” Zuko remembers Ozai telling him. “You never know why you can trust.”

“But _Azula_ has friends!” Zuko had protested.

“She knows things you have let to learn,” Ozai had replied.

Zuko shut up; already, he knew that pressing his father was a bad thing.)

 

* * *

 

**5.**

“Mama,” Zuko remembers saying, “Azula's _mean_.”

Ursa looked down at Zuko; he'd buried his head in her robes, which were warm and smelled comfortingly familiar. “Why do you say that?”

“She teases me! She and Mai and Ty Lee are always laughing at me, and I don't know _why_.” It wasn't _fair,_ he thought. He was older than them. They didn't get to make him feel so _little_.

Ursa hugged him. “Be patient, Zuko. She's very young; they're only having fun.”

“I know,” he grumbled, “but it's annoying. They're always giggling. And Azula's so much better at firebending than I am.”

“Oh Zuko,” Ursa smiled. “You'll get better; you're just a late bloomer.”

 

* * *

 

**6.**

“Your form is terrible, Prince Zuko, and the size of your flames is pathetic. Repeat that kata until you get it right,” their firebending instructor—hired by their father, now that he was busy with the duties of a Fire Lord—growled. Then, turning to Azula, “Brilliant as always, of course, Princess.”

Azula smiled. Zuko scowled ferociously, and kicked at the air extra-hard (come to think of it, Zuko muses, that's probably where he came by that habit.).

 

* * *

 

**7.**

“Zuzu,” Azula cried, rounding the corner. “Zuzu, you—” She stopped. “Are you _crying_?”

“No,” Zuko snapped, swiping fiercely at his face with his palm. “And _don't_ call me that.”

“Oh cheer up,” Azula laughed. “It was only a burn.”

Zuko said nothing. He'd missed a step sparring, that day, he remembers, and the burn that blistered his palm _hurt._ (And yes, that kind of pain is laughable now, but he supposes getting half your face burnt off puts things into perspective.)

“Anyway,” Azula continued, “we have practise again in the evening. Just thought I'd let you know.”

Zuko glared.

“Fine, be that way,” Azula sighed. “But I'm going to go have some fun.”

Zuko growled. Laughing, Azula skipped off.

 

* * *

 

**8.**

(Zuko has memories of wounded turtleducks and a father's anger. Azula taunted him, then, teased him about his soft heart, and in the end, he gave in. He wanted to make his father proud.

Both Zuko and Azula tried so very hard to be perfect.)

 

* * *

 

**9.**

Azula fought dirty, even when they were younger.

Or rather, Azula fought well. There is no honor in leaving an enemy alive. There is no honor in not injuring your sparring partner, even in play, at least not in the royal family.

Zuko was twelve and angry, and covered in burn marks that heal after a few days, leaving behind shiny scars.

Azula was ten, and sharp, and a prodigy.

 

* * *

 

**10.**

Zuko prepared himself for anything, for any defeat, any humiliation that could happen. He didn't think he'd _lose_ , of course, but. He wasn't confident of winning.

Nothing, however, could prepare him for this.

There is a fist of fire descending towards his face, and he's begging, pleading, _please, Father, have mercy, please, please, please,_ (somewhere some corner of his mind whispers, _Azula wouldn't beg, Azula would fight._ ) but his vision is orange, now, and—

Heat. Pain. He screams, and screams, until his throat gives out, and the world goes black.

 

* * *

 

**9.**

There is an eyepatch on his eye, and he can barely walk. The man who'd treated him, one of Uncle Iroh's friends, had warned him against getting up, so he can only growl “ _Get out_ ” ineffectually at Azula, who's pranced into his room.

She ignores him. “Zuzu,” she says, and her voice is completely devoid of emotion, “you've been banished.”

Zuko's mouth goes dry. He can't think, can't process what's happening, _banished,_ that's for traitors too high up in the ranks to execute—

“It's a mistake,” he croaks. It has to be. He can't—what is he going to do, Father's _banished_ him, only it's a lie, it must be, because Azula _lies._ That's what she does.

“What did you think would happen,” she asks, “defying Father like that?”

Zuko doesn't reply; Azula looks fuzzy, but that's probably just his vision, which is pretty terrible right now. “Please—” And he's trying his best to keep his fear and confusion out of his voice, but some of it creeps in nevertheless.

Azula's voice softens. “Zuzu—”

But Uncle Iroh comes in, and, at that moment, he's _terrifying_ , and Zuko gets why they call him ' _Dragon_ of the West'. “Azula,” he bites out, “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing he wouldn't find out on his own,” she sings, but she's edging towards the door. “It's not like Father—”

“Go,” Uncle Iroh says, very, very mildly. “Please leave, Azula.”

And she does leave. Zuko closes his one good eye, and tried very hard not to cry.

 

* * *

 

**8.**

Zuko will not admit to it, but what he misses most about home is the turtleducks. He'd loved them when he was younger, loved how they gather around you when you throw bread, how innocent and trusting they are—

But no matter. They're scared of him, now. He knows they are, because the last time he tried to approach them, mere days before his disgrace, they'd fled.

 

* * *

 

**7.**

She burns Uncle Iroh. She burns Uncle Iroh, strikes him with lighting, and the rage screams fierce and shrill within him.

Azula is his sister, and she couldn't—

It was an accident, he thinks. She was aiming for one of the Water Tribe kids, or the Avatar, or the little girl. Not Uncle Iroh. She wants to _capture_ them, not kill them.

It was an accident.

 

* * *

 

**6.**

Zuko is practising, alone. The courtyard is deserted; he hasn't allowed anyone to see him bending since he returned.

“Your form is terrible, Zuko,” Azula calls merrily. “Honestly, _what_ was that old man teaching you all those years?”

“Shut up,” Zuko growls, and sends a jet of flames in her direction. “Shut _up_.”

Azula laughs, and dodges. “Is that all you've got, Zuko?”

Calm. Breathe. He will not rise to her bait. He will _not._

 

* * *

 

 

**5.**

This happens: Mai and Ty Lee leave Azula, for Zuko. Or, not _for_ him, but because of him, at least. His sister has lost her ( _friends_ ) minions.

Some part of Zuko thinks this is good, strategically; without Mai and Ty Lee she is, physically, less dangerous (three deadly people are better than one, after all), and mentally, less stable, and therefore, easier to defeat.

(Another part of Zuko, the vindictive streak he shares with Azula thinks: _good. I have friends, and she doesn't. Let_ her _know what it feels like._ )

 

* * *

 

**4.**

He's still not a better fighter than Azula. But, Zuko realizes, he doesn't have to be. When he falls, he can leap back up quickly. He misses a step, and falls into another rhythm.

He's still not very good at bending. But he's learnt how to compensate, how to make do with what he has, over the years.

And now he has people to back him up.

He doesn't _need_ to be better than Azula. But—and this is her weakness, he realizes—she still needs to be better than him.

 

* * *

 

**3.**

They fight, and Azula's jet of flame barely misses Zuko's face. It's only years of training, instinct instilled by Ozai through pain and fear, that allows him to dodge the fire and send it back towards his sister.

So. He has something to be thankful to his father for, after all.

 

* * *

 

**2.**

Azula's fire is blue and still and deadly. Zuko doesn't know whether his own orange flame, burning with the light and life of dragon-fire, will be enough.

But it _has_ to be.

He feels Sozin's Comet thrumming in his veins, and knows Azula can feel the pull too (a strange kinship neither of them will admit to). Azula sends fire at him, and he counters.

Sparks fly.

 

* * *

 

 

**1.**

He visits Azula in prison, later. She's laughing, a mad, wild laugh, and Zuko thinks, _this is what I did to her._

She's clawing at the bars (her cell is quite comfortable, but still a _cell_ ) and screaming obscenities at him. He can't bear to listen, tunes her out, but still watches her. He owes her that, at least.

Something went wrong, somewhere. Maybe they never had a hope in the world of being proper siblings. Maybe Ozai had messed them up too much. But—

He should have tried. He should have _tried_ a little more.

“Zuzu,” Azula sings from behind her bars, “Zuzu, Zuzu, Zuzu,” and Zuko has to swallow back tears.

She's still so very young, he thinks. She's _fifteen_. And no-one had ever taught her any different.

“Azula,” he says, gently.

“Zuzu,” Azula says, again, and suddenly, she spits in his face.

 


End file.
